Dreams

I try to keep most of my blog postings light and humorous. Or at least I hope they are humorous. I do this for two very important reasons. 1. I love laughing and making other people laugh, especially when it's through storytelling. 2. I have a really hard time attaching myself to and facing the realities that some things are incredibly serious. So much so, that I avoid serious conversations, be it at work, church, or family functions. Part of that is the fact that serious conversations usually lead to pontificating by some pompous blow hard convinced of the fact that he truly has an insight that everyone else surely can't live without hearing. The other part of it is that I fight feelings of embarrassment when it comes to deeply emotional expression. Not artistic expression because there is an air of separation between audience and artist that is just intimate enough to share, but somehow lacks the naked exposure of a true "this is how I feel" moment.

My feelings on this subject are beginning to change. A lot of it has to do with a song. I realize that it's not a real surprise that I would bring music in to this conversation, but this song is different. There's a folk singer from the 70's and 80's named Loudon Wainwright III who wrote a song so personal and self-deprecating that I felt embarrassed for him the first time I heard it. Loudon left his wife with two small children to pursue fame or folly when they were very young. His son, Rufus, has become a pretty famous musician himself despite having very little contact with his father. After hearing this story I obviously was on team Rufus, and rightly so. The one thing I had not considered when looking at the situation of this family was the regret that Loudon felt. That was, until I heard "When You Leave" for the first time. I have linked it below. Please take the time to listen to it a few times through before proceeding with the remainder of this posting.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q7uyxp9pJdc

It's a very painful song on many levels. His ego is shown on a few different levels. First he is the gallivanting young man who places importance on his freedom. Then he is the gatekeeper to his world, where his kids "show up," ready to accept the fact that they are back in his life. Finally, he is crushed by the fact that by wrecking their lives he had been excommunicated from them and was seemingly inconsequential in their lives. This is the most painful realization.

He lived this experience on stage, almost as a penance. This has turned over a new leaf for me and my blog. Don't worry, I'll still try and focus on funny stuff, but I'll also begin exploring a few more serious topics. If you get bored, change the channel.

A few days ago I watched "The Last Lecture: Achieving Your Childhood Dreams."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo

This lecture was given by Dr. Randy Pausch from Carnegie Mellon University shortly before he fell victim to cancer. It's a fascinating swan song, from an educator, that gets pretty deep pretty fast. He discusses how he achieved his childhood dreams through a combination of perseverance and luck. This got me to thinking about my own childhood dreams. But to do this I must consider three questions:

1. Am I there yet?
2. Was I a loon?
3. Did I trade up?

Question one is based on the fact that I'm only 32 years old. There is a good chance that I simply haven't gotten to a place in life where certain dreams are attainable. In number two I must strongly consider that I may have been a little too wide-eyed and sugar doped as a kid to have considered dreams that were attainable. But hell, they're called dreams so we'll throw them in anyway. Number three is critical when considering maturation and the things I've learned, through various experiences, about the world. Was my dream too low? Do I honestly appreciate the dreams of others that I selfishly live everyday?

That said, let's get to the list.

1. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to sing at Carnegie Hall. Not as a part of a choir currently on some school funded trip, but as me. This dream was promulgated by many early years of listening to classical music and seeing the musical world as two high peaks, Julliard and Carnegie. Those were to creme de la creme. While this dream seems miles away, considering my current career path, I bullishly refuse to accept a future that doesn't involve a return to music at some point. So I'll capture this one under "in progress."

2. Travel the world. This dream was spawned by an upbringing where I traveled the U.S. with my parents, and experienced the uniqueness of the various cultures throughout our country. I also spent some time in England in college, and would love to return. I see it like this: There is no way, in the time afforded to me on earth, that I can see the entire world, but I should never stop trying. I can't think of anything more sad than when I hear stories of people who lived their entire lives never leaving their home towns or states. Therefore, I'll file this one under "renewed project."

3. Restore a 1955 Chevrolet Bel-Air two door sport coupe. Yep, not there yet. But I will.

4. Play St. Andrew's old course. This one is pretty tough. However, one day I hope my boys will share my love of golf and we can make it our mission to spend a day on the old course. It's golf's most revered holy ground, and even though the chances are slim, but I'm not giving up on this one.

5. Discover a dinosaur fossil. I loved dinosaurs as a kid, and so does Jackson. But somehow I think the opportunity to become a paleontologist has passed me by. I'm ok with that. This one may have fallen into the realm of enabling the dreams of others (Jackson). So be it.

Now obviously most of these dreams are not related to "grown up" stuff. They don't take in to account the critical nature of raising kids, where every step could seemingly wreck a life. They don't take in to account the incredible power of a life devoted to another person, shunning all the rest. But the thing is, they're not supposed to. They're dreams. It's the type of stuff that makes us giddy and feel butterflies, somehow transporting us to a time where the serious conversations of life revolved around who was the better detective, Nancy Drew or Encyclopedia Brown.

So now I'm faced with the question at hand. Do I continue to reach for the dreams of my childhood, or do I now completely invest myself in to the dreams of my own children? Are the two mutually exclusive? Have my own dreams taken a backseat to the life I've chosen to lead as an adult, or was I just a silly kid who didn't see the whole picture? Those are hard questions, but there is one that is more daunting. Am I still dreaming? Am I devoting myself to the routine that I currently run, like a robot, or am I still trying to create more adult-like butterfly moments? Does our psyche as adults prohibit us from continuing to dream, or are we just too damn distracted by the flashing lights of our daily lives?

Maybe those dreams aren't mine anymore. Maybe my evolution and maturation will lead me to greater dreams. Maybe. But the one thing I have begun to realize is that while dreaming is automatic for a child, for me it takes work. I can't simply continue to wake and sleep without dreaming of "what's to come."



To this point, my blog has largely been a one way street. I've simply told my stories without engaging the people who take time out to read this nonsense. That said, please feel free to comment on what I write and share my blog with others, if you feel so inclined. I would love to hear your feedback on the process of self-expression.